


(Your) Body (is) Art

by sentimental_boy



Series: Matt Murdock imagines [70]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 04:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11935980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sentimental_boy/pseuds/sentimental_boy
Summary: You have Tattoos. Matt loves them.





	(Your) Body (is) Art

When you were younger, with a few hidden tattoos here and there, you didn't notice a difference in your dating life. Why would you? But as you got more and more, a lot of guys started to veer away from you. It didn't bother you. If they have a problem with it, or it intimidates them in some way, they're not for you. For many, they don't care either way. Your tattoos aren't turn on or turn offs. They're there; a part of you. Which is how you feel about the matter. Every once in awhile, it was a thing, some people think it's sexy. And that's fine too. But never had you ever met anyone who was as into it as Matthew Murdock.

You met fresh out of college and fell head first into love. When he ran his hands over your sleeve in progress for the first time, he froze with a sharp inhale.

"Do you- is this a tattoo?"

You glanced down at where his hand was running along your arm, tracing the pattern far too precisely. "Uh, yeah. What, are you too Catholic to date someone with tattoos?"

He laughed. "No, I uh, I know it doesn't have anything to do with me, but I think it's hot."

"If you find it so hot, why don't you make it have something to do with you?"

He spent the rest of the night exploring your body, finding and mapping out each and every one.

-0-

It's 6 months later when you're laying in bed next to him, and the question you've been dying to ask comes tumbling out.

"How can you feel my tattoos?"

You hear him let out a breath of a laugh in the darkness. "Uh, can you not?"

"No, that's what's freaking me out. Ever since you decided to start worshipping them, I got curious and I tried to feel the difference. I mean, when you first get them, it's obvious, but the ones I've had for years? There's no difference."

He shrugs. "I'm told I'm sensitive."

"Well, I've learned that much."

-0-

Over the years, you drifted apart. He got secretive and you got sick of it. You went your separate ways with a kiss, wishing each other the best. Years later and you've dubbed Matt the one that got away. You've dated since then but nothing ever lasted. Matt was- probably still is- you lobster. You should've worked it out and mated for life. It's the only thing that makes sense. You miss him and a selfish part of you wants him to miss you too.

New York is big, but you find yourself gravitating toward Hell's kitchen more often than not. You need to break down and lease a place here before they renovate everything beyond recognition and price range. You don't know what you're expecting, until you find him one day, tapping his way down the sidewalk.

-0-

Matt hasn't stopped thinking about you either. His story is similar; filled with broken relationships, some empty from the start, others with failed potential or tragedy.

One day, he actually found himself in a tattoo shop, asking for red boxing gloves on his left arm. At first, the Artist was dubious at the blind man in his chair. At Matt's conviction in the matter, they shrugged and did it. To this day he denies that you put that bug in him.

He's walking to work one morning when he gets a strange feeling. He can feel something familiar in this crowd of strangers. Then he pinpoints it. A lost heartbeat, found after years of wishing and hoping. He stops dead in his tracks, tilting his head to the side, listening, confirming that his mind isn't playing tricks on him. But no, the wind carries a whiff of your scent to accompany your heartbeat. He grips his cane tighter and moves forward with purpose. When he reaches you, he knows you recognize him because your heart goes rabbit fast. He breathes out your name in disbelief.

" _Matt_." You lunge forward and wrap your arms around him.

A surge of ridiculous, unreasonable, excessive joy flows through him and manifests in a breathy laugh against your neck. It almost sounds like a sigh of relief as he squeezes you back.

"So, how have you been?" You ask after the possibly too long hug. You can't bring yourself to regret it.

"Uh, good. I've been good. What about you?"

"Yeah, same."

"Well, I was on my way to work, I have a big case starting in..." He feels his watch. "30 minutes."

"Oh, okay. Yeah, go aid lady justice!"

Matt laughs. "It was nice running into you."

"Yeah, I'm glad you're doing well."

"Thanks." He rubs at his neck. "Uh. Y/n, do you maybe want to go to dinner tonight? We could catch up."

"I'd love that, Matt."

He smiles. "Good. Uh, your number isn't still the same, is it?"

"It is."

"Okay, then I'll call you."

You stand there dumbfounded as he walks away.  _What just happened_?

-0-

Catching up at the restaurant goes too well. Apparently, you and Matt can't be around each other for any period of time without jumping each other's bones. It's laying there, in Matt's silk sheets, that you notice his arm in the light of the billboard.

"Matt, this is so beautiful." You run your hand over the red boxing gloves on his upper arm. The strings of the gloves wrap around a cross as they hang down the staff. "The detail is amazing, the yellow strings and stitching, the shadows that make the red of the gloves pop, the colors bleeding like watercolor."

"Thanks. It makes me feel like I'm carrying a piece of him with me." He knows he doesn't have to elaborate who  _he_  is.

"Matt?" You murmur.

"Yeah?"

"What are we doing?" You ask, head on his chest, arm slung over his stomach.

"Uh, cuddling?"

"Come on. We didn't show the best judgment tonight with how things ended between us."

He sighs. "I know." He pauses, debating, before taking a leap of faith. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too. So much." You run your hands along his scarred stomach- excuse me-  _abs_. "But as nice as it was to catch up, I only have more questions after tonight." You trace a particularly long scar that skips across his pecs to make your point.

He sighs. "I want you back in my life y/n. I really do. But I'm not ready to talk about this" he gestures to his torso. "Yet. would you be willing to move forward with the promise of answers with time?"

You sigh. "Matt, you're asking me to take a big leap of faith here. What we had was great, and that's why it hurt so bad that you felt like you had to keep things from me. I still don't know why you always disappeared on me. And what if what you're so afraid of is true? What if it's something I can't live with or forgive? It's only going to hurt worse the longer we're together. I can't express how much I don't want tonight to be a mistake to regret later."

He sighs. "I know. I- it's a little illegal."

You snort. "A little?"

"Okay, it's a lot illegal, very illegal and morally ambiguous."

"Well, that rules out cheating, although, since you're still worked up about it, I ruled that out awhile ago."

He murmurs your name and the hurt in his voice hits you harder than you would've thought possible. "I- that's not something I could ever do. Much less to you."

"Well, Matt, what was I supposed to think?"

"I don't know."

You run your hand through his hair. "Come on. Just the fact that you told me you're doing something illegal is probable cause. I could have the cops here with a search warrant if I wanted."

He stiffens beneath you. "That's what I'm afraid of."

"Oh God. Matt, I wasn't- I'm not going to call the cops on you. That wasn't a threat; it was supposed to be peace of mind. My point is: I haven't freaked out yet."

"You don't know what I've done- what I'm doing."

"Yeah, that's the entire point of this conversation. And way to be ominous, man. What are you, a cold blooded serial killer or something?"

"Or something."

"Matt, this is not the time for a dark sense of humor. You have to tell me now."

"I'm Daredevil."

-0-

A year later, Matt proposed to you.

-0-

Matt comes home to the faint smell of cigarettes. You weren't smoking, you were around someone who does. It's hiding under the more distinctive smell of ink and faint notes of blood. He comes over to where you're sitting on the sofa and kisses your temple. "Hey."

"Hey, babe."

"You get another one today?" He asks, walking into the bedroom to change.

"Yeah, I'm excited about it."

"You always are." He grins, shrugging off his button up.

"I know, but this one's special. More so than the rest." You follow him into the room.

"How so?"

You take his hand and place it below your thumb knuckle, where the new dots are still red and angry.

He trails his fingertips from where your thumb ends to where your wrist starts, steadying your hand with his as he feels the little dots. As he traces the four clusters of dots, he realizes that it's his name. In braille. He grins when he gets to the set of justice scales no larger than a dime. He can always feel your tattoos, but never like this, when they're still new. More than that, he can't get over that you did this for him.

Matt's been unresponsive for about a full minute now. His face unreadable, fingers scanning over the raised lines over and over again. "Matt, honey. You okay?"

He blinks a couple times before he rushes forward, drawing you in for  _that_  kiss. The one you see in movies; wind swirling around the couple, fireworks going off in the distance, breathing each other in like everything else ceased to exist in that moment.

"I love it." Matt breathes out, confident that for once, this thing that he's loved and admired about your body for years actually is about him. He takes a minute to let that soak in. "I love  _you_." Matt takes both your hands in his, threading your fingers together, his thumb still sliding over the letters over and over again. He leans in, peppering kisses on your cheeks, your nose, trailing down your neck, and over your collarbones.

You laugh, reaching up to run your hand through his hair. "Love you too, Matt." You shake your head. "I knew you'd be into it, but I keep underestimating how much a person can love tattoos."

He shakes his head. "No, tattoos are hot. This is something else. I can't put into words how much it means to me. You got  _my name tattooed_ on  _your body forever_.  _In Braille_." He can't seem to stop talking in italics. "Do you realize what you did?"

You laugh. "Yes, Matt, I do."

He pulls you in for another kiss. "I can't wait to say that to you, at the altar, in front of everyone we care about."

"We're going to need a big venue if we're inviting all of Hell's Kitchen,  _Daredevil_."

"I'll say it in front of anyone who will listen." He says, holding your hand to his chest, heads still close together from the kisses he can't seem to stop giving you. "I may not have gotten your name tattooed on my body yet, but I'm yours."

"Yet?"

"It only seems fair." He grins.


End file.
